My Bloody Valentine
by dear-broken-heart
Summary: [PreRent] Mark introduced April and Roger to each other, but he never imagined he'd be the one to bring it to an end.


**A/N: **This story was written for aSpeedRent challenge earlier this week. I ended up "finishing" just a few minutes before the deadline, so you'll notice it's choppy and some parts don't make a lot of sense. I'm leaving it as it is, unedited because, well, that's the way it was!

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_February 7th:_

Mark had fallen asleep on the couch around 3, and woke up to a knock on the apartment door at 5. He got up and shuffled to the door. "Coming!" he shouted as the knocking intensified. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it as he reached for the door knob.

"April?" There she was standing there, her hair out of place, her mascara running. "Are you okay?" Mark took her by the shoulders and led her inside toward the sofa. She just continued sniffling.

He sat with her for a while as she calmed down, her tears subsiding. "Sorry," she whispered.

"It's ok Dais," he whispered back in her ear. It was his favorite nickname for her, "April Daisy." It started back when they were in high school, but it had managed to stick. Now what's wrong?" he smiled, unconsciously breathing in the scent of her perfume.

"Oh, you know," she gave a half smile wiping away the last few tears; this wasn't the first time she'd come to Mark like this.

"Wait, let me guess," he put his hand to his chin and pretended to be deep in thought. "Roger?" he teasingly asked.

She nodded. "Remember the Valentines Day plans he has been promising for months?" she looked to Mark waiting for a nod.

"Yeah, yeah" Mark rolled his eyes, jokingly. Well, half-jokingly. Not only had he heard April about these plans for months from April, but he had been bugging Roger for months to actually make the reservations he'd been promising her. Mark had been best friends with Roger since early college and had introduced him to April. Mark knew well enough that Roger never followed through on plans.

"Well, he told me we'll have to pick a new day! He decided some gig he booked with his band for that night is more important than me! He cancelled one week before!" April was trying to keep it together, make the situation light-hearted, but Mark could tell by the look on her face that this wasn't the only thing she was worried about.

In early December, April had walked in on Roger injecting heroine in their bedroom. She'd suspected something for several weeks after he came home on several occasions distant, like he was in a fog. Roger swore to drop the habit after a three hour argument with April. He promised her he wasn't some kind of junkie. April hadn't mentioned Roger's "habit" since that time, so Mark had hoped it was just a momentary blip on the radar of the life of Roger Davis. He never brought it up in conversation with Roger, April had made him swear to never bring it up. Now it was two months later, and Mark didn't have the guts to even bring it up with April--so he didn't.

"Well, I know this won't solve the situation, but I know this will make it at least a little bit better," he walked away and into the kitchen, re-emerging a few seconds later.

She smiled as he walked out.

"Cheap beer," he handed her a bottle. It had been their solution since high school.

They clinked bottles, trading a cynical smile. "So how are things with Maureen?" April asked, resting her head on Mark's shoulder as he joined her on the old beat up couch.

Mark sighed. "Who knows. She's spending the weekend with some old friend in Philly."

"Love sucks."

"Agreed," he replied.

_February 11th:_

They talked for at least two hours, reminiscing about their high school years and all the loser's of their love life's past. It was exactly 7:30 when the phone rang. Mark tripped on the way to picking it up, they both broke into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. They had each already pounded two beers and a couple of shots, in addition to the fact that neither could hold alcohol very well.

"Hello?" he grabbed the phone pulling the cord and sending the base to the floor. More laughter ensued.

"Mark? Are you okay?" It was Roger.

"Yeah, I'm fine Roger," he eyed April who's expression immediately sobered up. "What's up?"

"Have seen April in the past few hours? Has she called or anything?" The background noise was loud, Mark assumed he must be at some club before a gig.

Mark covered the receiver. "He wants to know if I've seen you?" he asked in an overemphasized whisper, the alcohol mixing with his common sense.

"Well, tell him you haven't," she replied. "Make him worry," her expression was the same as earlier, slightly hurt.

"Nope, I haven't. Is she okay?" The delay seemed suspicious, and Mark's tone was less than convincing in his current state.

"No, nothing's wrong, just wondering if you saw her." Roger had bought it, the mix of the trust he had for Mark and the loud noise in the background left him less than suspicious.

"I'll look out for her, call me if you hear anything?" April watched Mark intently.

"Yeah, thanks man. Talk to you later." They both hung up.

"You ok Daisy-Dais?" he walked over to April who was standing on the other side of room, her expression somewhat blank.

"Yep, I'm fine," she fought off the few tears that were forming and smiled as he looked her in the eyes, a goofy look on his face.

"Good!" He caught her off-guard, grabbing her from behind tickling her until they both landed on the couch in a fit of laughter. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

"Remember Valentines Day sophomore year?" she asked him.

"Ha, was that the year I made you that card?"

A smile crossed her face. "You still had glitter on your face when you gave it to me," she giggled.

"Oh, don't remind me of that," he rolled his eyes jokingly.

She rested her hand on his chest, supporting herself "You're still the best valentine I've ever had," she looked into his blue-eyes, not daring to blink.

He didn't reply, he just stared back at her, their faces inches apart.

A few seconds past before she leaned in, her lips gently brushing over his before she pulled back slightly. They both didn't move for another second or two. Second guesses aside, he pulled her in for a passionate kiss, she kissed him back even deeper.

Every sense intensified, as they walked towards Mark's bedroom, their lips never separating. Neither knew why, but they never looked back.

The sun cut through the dirty windows. Mark relented to the bright light and opened his eyes. His head was pounding and he shivered beneath a thin sheet. He closed his eyes, avoiding the light and the images of the night before flashing before his eyes. He rolled over and got up when the worries about April and if she got home alright crossed his mind. He threw on some clothes and walked to the living room, picking up the phone and dialing Roger and April's apartment.

"Hello?" April groggily asked. "Hello?" she repeated louder, after no reply.

"Hi," Mark replied softly.

"Mark," her voice was a hushed whisper, "You can't call right now."

"I was just seeing if you got home alright," he replied defensively.

"I'm fine Mark, I'll talk to you later, okay?" She sounded annoyed.

"Ok," he replied defeated.

It was three days before he called April again. He'd talked to Roger twice, avoiding the subject of April as much as possible, sticking with safe subjects: work, music, film. He got a little nervous as she picked up the phone.

"Hey Dais," his voice sounded weak.

She didn't answer for a few seconds. "Hi," she eventually replied.

"Listen, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It was a mistake Mark. Just drop it, ok?" her words were bitter, but her voice wavered. Mark couldn't remember a time when April was like this. He also knew these circumstances had never existed before.

"Are we still going to meet at the Life on Saturday? The usual thing?" He could hear her breathing, but she didn't reply. "Going back to normal doesn't involve breaking a five year tradition," he stated sternly.

"Fine," she answered, a sigh following. "Listen, I have a doctor's appointment in like half an hour or something, I have to go. See you at seven Saturday. Bye." She didn't even wait for him to reply before hanging up.

He hung up the phone a few seconds later. That similar defeated feeling plaguing him.

_February 13th: _

Mark sat at a corner table in the Life Café. He sipped a cup of strong black coffee. His eyes alternated between the neon clock on the wall and the door. He watched as the seconds ticked by. She walked in at 7:13. Her messenger bag slung over her shoulder, her hair in a messy bun, and deep circles beneath her eyes, exaggerated by the mascara smudged eyeliner. She grasped the ends of her long sleeve shirt beneath her coat. She sat down across from Mark without saying a word, avoiding looking him in the eyes. A waiter walked over and she ordered a tea. After a minute and a half passed she finally acknowledged the fact he was across from her.

"You alright?" he asked, that usually concerned look on his face.

"I'm fine, Okay Mark? Everything is fucking _fantastic_," April replied sarcastically.

Mark retreated, once again defeated.

The waiter walked over with her tea and set it on the table. She stared at the liquid as she stirred, the spoon occasionally making a metallic sound as it hit the edges.

Mark gazed out the window.

She sighed and reached for the sugar at the end of the table, her sleeve coming up above her wrist, revealing small razor cuts. Mark noticed and swallowed hard, his mind falling back to the days of high school. April had been a cutter for much high school. A series of relapse and recovery, continued until senior year when she finally ditched the razors for good. Scars still covered her legs and arms, but what he knew the cuts on her wrist weren't just scars. He considered saying something but then immediately thought better of it.

Sighs and uncomfortable glances considered for another half-hour until they both gave up. He waited for change from the $20 dollar bill he handed to the waiter, part of the money his mother continued to send. April left, throwing a few dollars on the table and saying barely a goodbye.

It hadn't gone at all the way Mark had wanted it to.

_February 14th:_

Mark woke up at 11am. He stared out the window for a few seconds, watching the snow falling. He watched Maureen sleeping. He started to wonder why he never felt guilty for betraying Maureen. Was it because it was April? Was it because Maureen had undoubtedly cheated on him multiple times? He got up and threw on an old and rather tattered NYU sweatshirt.

He passed the blinking answering machine on the way too the kitchen, hitting play as he went to turn on the coffeemaker.

"Mark, it's April…" he flew back out to the living room and turned down the volume, afraid Maureen would wake up. "I…I need to talk to you, It's like 8 or something, I don't know." Her breathing was fast and he could here her sobbing in the background. "Please call Mark, please." Mark sighed, a little nervous about what she was crying about, but happy that she was willing to talk. He waited for the next message, he'd call her back right after.

The message started, it was April again, but she sounded serious. She wasn't crying anymore. "It wasn't a mistake Mark. If it was, it was the best one I've ever made, and you know I've made a lot. Promise me you'll take care of Roger? I love you Marky, and you'll always be my valentine too. I promise, glitter and all…" she hung up the phone, the machine cutting off.

Mark's breath caught in the back of his throat. What did she mean by take care of Roger? The machine clicked off, he still hadn't taken a breath.


End file.
